


we all have wings (but some of us don't know why)

by sebthealienn



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, I'm Sorry, M/M, Tennis Boyfriends, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Why do I do this to myself, and novak is tired of it, andy's just his old miserable self, angst with fluff, but he loves andy, i should have included something about the clearly visible penis on andy's x ray, i wrote this in like 2 days give me a break, kinda deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebthealienn/pseuds/sebthealienn
Summary: "You know what, sometimes I wonder if it really is the end."Novak looks up from his book. "Don't say that," Novak scolds him, his voice lower than usual. "Don't say that. You'll be fine."





	we all have wings (but some of us don't know why)

**Author's Note:**

> so basically i saw andy's post-surgery post on instagram and inspiration hit me like a brick for the first time in ages!! it took me like 2 days to write this and i've edited and deleted it more times than i can count. i'm still not exactly proud of it but i finally wrote a fic, so i guess that has to count for something.
> 
> this is basically just andy putting himself down and being a little self-deprecating while novak is the sweetheart everyone knows he is. enjoy!

"You know, sometimes I wonder if it really is the end."

Novak looks up from his book. He's seated in a rather uncomfortable chair next to Andy's hospital bed, and he's lost count of how many hours he's been there since Andy's been out of surgery. Andy's doing okay, he supposes. He makes conversation sometimes, though the painkillers make him seem too drowsy and forgetful for it to really be Andy. He sleeps a lot. Andy's never been much of a sleeper, so this is unnerving to say the least. Novak is sure this is the least he's ever heard Andy speak in the almost twenty years they've known each other. He barely complains as well, which makes the condition he's in feel much too real. 

"Don't say that," Novak scolds him, his voice lower than usual. The hospital is silent outside the room, save for occasional quickened footsteps out in the hallway and the hushed voices of medical professionals. Speaking seems inappropriate, and all Novak can bring himself to do is whisper. "Don't say that. You'll be fine."

Andy shifts around on the bed, turning on his good side and bringing the covers up to his chin. He looks pale and thin- too thin- and Novak looks at him for maybe three seconds before the scene becomes too overwhelming. He knows the surgery was just on the hip but he finds himself treating Andy as if he just came out of open heart surgery. 

He has a metal hip now, though. One of the only two tennis players to ever have a metal hip. Novak wills himself not to look at the IVs in Andy's pale arms. A small tear in the page of the book he has on his lap suddenly seems a lot more interesting. 

"That's what everyone said after my first surgery," Andy says. He sounds exhausted and a little sad. "Everyone said the first surgery would be enough and that I would be back in the top 10 in like... a year and a half, I think. News flash: that didn't fucking happen!"

Novak tries not to flinch at Andy's tone. He doesn't sound sad anymore. There's a clear hint of anger in his voice, and Novak hates it. He just wants everything to be like it was before... before the hip. He wants Andy to still be in the top 3, and he wants their rivalry to be back, because seeing Andy cursing and shouting and fist bumping and basically pouring his whole heart and soul onto the tennis court made his own heart grow a size or two. Andy is what made Novak realize that you never really fall in love with the sport itself. Andy is what taught Novak how to love in the first place.

"You're angry." He can't think of anything else to say. There isn't anything else to say. 

"You wouldn't be?" Andy snaps at him, but Novak doesn't feel offended. Andy has a reason to snap. "It's been over a year, and practically nothing has helped. I-" he stops as his voice breaks. Novak swallows. He hates this. Andy clears his throat, and reaches up to rub at his eye. It looks like he's struggling to even move. "I- I've been thinking a lot. I'm on bedrest for like another few days. I have a lot of time to think."

Novak nods. He knows. He's sat here, sometimes for hours on end, watching Andy stare into nothingness, his eyes glazed over, deep in thought as nurses shuffled around him, changing his sheets or fluffing his pillow or bringing him more painkillers. He'd never asked about what he was thinking about. There was no need to. Andy would tell him later. Andy always tells him everything.

"And I thought one day," Andy continues, brushing a pale hand through his overgrown curls. He's in desperate need of both a haircut and a shave, and even a shower. Novak doesn't mention how when they kiss, he's scratched by the stubble. "What if I retired? Would that be better?"

Novak stays silent. Part of him knew that had been coming. Jamie hinted at it before, when Novak was in the waiting room. It makes Novak's heart hurt. Andy is gazing at him, eyes still not entirely focused. Painkillers. Novak inhales, finally. "That's not my choice to make."

"Yes," Andy breathes, "I know."

Without really thinking about it, Novak reaches out a hand and takes Andy's IV-less hand in his. Their fingers fit perfectly together. Like a puzzle. Like they're made for each other. Andy's hand is warm and familiar. Novak squeezes it. 

"I don't want to retire. I love tennis." Andy's thumb rubs absently against Novak's palm. "I want to keep playing for as long as I want. I don't want my retirement to be decided for me by my goddamn body, you know?"

Novak chews on his bottom lip. He knows, maybe more than anyone. He's experienced that too, with his elbow.

Andy shifts on the bed so he's on his back again, staring up at the ceiling. Novak unconsciously tightens his grip on Andy's hand. If Andy notices, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he sighs. "I don't want to retire so early, but if I can't even tie my shoes without that pain shooting through my entire body, I'm definitely not going to last long on the court. If anything I'd make everything worse. Retiring is the only other option."

Novak closes his book and places it on a nearby table. He scoots closer to the bed on the chair, not letting go of Andy's hand. He can't let go. "Unless," he says, "the surgery works."

"Yeah." Andy sounds like he's far away. Like he's hopeful and desperate and disappointed all at once. "Unless the surgery works."

"I mean, look at Bob! He's playing better than ever!"

Andy's head turns so he's gazing at Novak. He manages a tired, hazy grin. "So I hear. Good for him."

Novak tilts his head, trying to stretch out his stiff neck. He has practice in a few hours. Marian will kill him if he's late, but he can't really think about leaving Andy right now. Not in the state he's in; not after what he just said. Novak thinks Andy might need some company now more than ever.

"You can do it," Novak begins again. "So many players have done it. They've gotten a so-called career-ending injury and yet they're still in the circuit today, traveling on tour and playing the biggest tournaments in the world. Even though it seemed impossible."

Andy isn't really looking at him anymore but Novak knows he's still listening. He's been doing that a lot. "They... they did have something you don't, though. At least not right now."

Andy furrows his eyebrows. "What's that?"

"Self-confidence." Andy rolls his eyes and goes back to facing forward. Novak isn't discouraged. Andy's done this so much that he's barely fazed. He keeps talking, all while staring at their intertwined hands. He notices that Andy's started biting his nails again. "Don't give me that look," he says, trying and failing to sound stern. A ghost of a smile passes through Andy's face. Novak thinks of it as a small victory. Nothing is as incredible to him as when he makes Andy smile. "You roll your eyes at me because you know I'm right. Every single one of those players wanted, more than anything, to come back and play. I say that because I know. I've been there, and at one point I told myself it would never happen, but that didn't mean I stopped believing and trying and..." he pauses. He's breathing hard. "And look at me now."

Andy looks at him. He's smiling softly. Novak manages to smile back. His chest feels like it's going to burst. "So," he continues, letting out a shuddering breath, "promise me that you'll try."

"Nole..." Andy sighs. He opens his mouth to say something else but Novak interrupts him.

"Try! That's all you need to do. Just try, Andy, and you'll be okay." he meets Andy's eyes. Andy reaches up to run a callused hand down Novak's cheek, then brings him into a soft kiss. It doesn't last long. It's short but it means so much that Novak nearly breaks down right then and there. Andy touches their foreheads together when they break apart. It's cliche, but Novak wouldn't trade it for the world. 

"Promise," he whispers. They're still holding hands.

Andy shakes his head, but he's grinning and his eyes are brighter than Novak's seen in a while. "I promise," he says.

An instant weight is lifted off of Novak's shoulders. He nods, satisfied, then settles back in his chair. Would it hurt the hospital to get some more comfortable chairs?

When he tries to take his hand away a couple minutes later so he can continue reading his book, Andy doesn't let him. Novak looks over at him, a little confused, then sees that Andy's fallen asleep, his hand tightly gripping Novak's hand and his mouth slightly open. He doesn't snore. Novak usually finds it relieving, but now he'd prefer some kind of noise. The hospital room is too quiet now. 

Instead of dwelling on the silence, Novak relishes it. In a few months Andy will be up and around, already looking forward to practicing and getting back on tour - and even though Andy says it's not going to happen, sometimes Novak thinks he knows him better than he knows himself. 

He knows Andy wants it. 

Novak crosses his right leg over his left and makes himself comfortable. He thinks back to all the times he's either played Andy or watched him play; he's always so passionate and intense on the court, yelling and cursing whenever he gets a good point, and whenever the chair umpire just really seems to hate him. Either way, he's an absolute beast. Jamie and Marko often tease him that if he wasn't a tennis player himself, his favorite tennis player would definitely be Andy. 

Jokes on them. Novak looks at Andy's peaceful face as he sleeps, and can't help but grin. Sometimes he thinks that he wants Andy to succeed more than Andy wants Andy to succeed. And really, he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
